


In(con)ception

by SlightlyTwistedSilverware, WelshWitch1011



Series: Fixing Those Finales [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU Season 1 Onwards, F/M, Grant Ward Lives, Hive Lives, Implied Skye/Hive, Implied Skye/Lincoln, Our Response To That Hideous Finale, Skyeward - Freeform, Somebody Please Fire Jed & Maurissa Whedon, Ward is Hellfire, Ward redemption, total crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyTwistedSilverware/pseuds/SlightlyTwistedSilverware, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshWitch1011/pseuds/WelshWitch1011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when you thought you couldn't hate the AOS writers anymore... they totally lose the plot. So here we have it, a fic that pays tribute to their 'wonderful' storytelling over the last two seasons.<br/>(This is a complete crack fic in response to the clusterf***k of a finale, a sequel to 'Jumping The Shark' that we wish we hadn't had to write.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In(con)ception

**Author's Note:**

> We don't even have words to describe our anger at the S3 finale. Let's just say that we knew those despicable writers were stupid, but not quite THAT stupid. Apparently we were wrong. We are enjoying watching the backlash they're getting from the viewers, but we can never, ever watch the show again - nor will we bother reading the synopsis of new episodes in hopes that one day, it might be good enough to watch again.
> 
> We'll still be here writing Skyeward, and still quietly hoping that it's not the last we've seen of Grant Ward. But we are going to stop pretending that there's one member of their writing team with a functioning brain cell.  
> Keep Tweeting your support to Brett and letting Marvel, AOS, and those morons in the writing office know how you feel. Maybe for once, somebody might listen.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Please remember - total crack fic! And yes, we might have also poked a little bit of fun at some over-used fanfic tropes. ;)

 

 

  
It was a myriad of emotions that swirled in the pit of her stomach as Daisy gazed down at the white stick lying face down on the counter; or, perhaps it was the residual nausea from the brainwashing. It was impossible to be certain, but either way Daisy was straddling that fine line between excitement and hysteria, and there was a good chance she was going to lose her breakfast down the crapper before the alarm on her phone trilled, signifying her two minutes was up.

 

Surprisingly, Daisy found that she could ponder an awful lot in 120 seconds; was she ready for all this? Was her partner? Could an ancient alien being with demi-god-like powers even be a good father? Did she want to be a soccer Mom, or one of those trendy new-age types that juice beetroot for breakfast and feeds their kid kale sandwiches? And just where did you find a onesie with tentacle holes?

 

Daisy’s reverie was shattered by the sudden and insistent shrieking of her cell phone, and she dove forward to seize the pregnancy test in both hands, her eyes wide. However, at that moment, there was a sharp rapping on the bathroom door, and Daisy almost dropped the stick entirely in her surprise.

 

“Daisy? Is everything alright?” HiveWard called out, his emotionless dulcet tones filtering in through the closed and locked door.

 

“Fine!” Daisy yelled back, groaning in frustration as she waited for the sounds of retreating footsteps. After several seconds of unearthly silence, Daisy realised that HiveWard was likely going nowhere, and her head slammed back against the wall as suddenly there was a very audible clicking sound and the bathroom door swung open.

 

HiveWard stood on the threshold, one hand outstretched - although it was suddenly less a hand and more of a murky grey tentacle that had formed the shape of the bathroom door key. Staring aghast, Daisy narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

 

“I’ve told you to stop doing that,” she snapped, gesturing at the offending appendage, “what if I’m masturbating in here, huh?”

 

HiveWard cocked his head, expression curious as he inquired, “Were you masturbating in here?”

 

"No! That's... not the point!" she snapped, hiding the offending item behind her back as she glared at him with obvious irritation that somehow seemed to wash over the Inhuman. The blank, often emotionless expression was a throwback to the host himself and, sometimes, when her defences were down, Daisy found herself mourning Grant Ward and wondering what could have been. But presently, there were far more pressing matters at hand, or in her hand, to be more precise.

 

"Daisy... Something's troubling you," HiveWard observed, his eyes suddenly boring into hers as if trying to search out the solution. Taking a deep breath, Daisy steeled herself and thrust aloft the plastic stick. Her eyes landed on the display window the same moment his less understanding gaze settled on the object, and she released a heavy sigh.

 

"Well, I guess it's official. I'm knocked up with an alien baby. I thought we were being careful..." she lamented, suddenly pausing as she asked, "wait, so... this is not your body, I mean... technically, whose kid is this?”

 

HiveWard paused, an almost emotion settling across his borrowed features as he captured Daisy’s hand and gently urged her wrist towards his eyes so that he could examine the positive test.

 

“I peed on that, you know, bud,” Daisy stated, shaking her head as HiveWard shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

 

“This is wonderful news,” HiveWard suddenly declared, a smile settling across his features as he leaned forwards and brushed an almost chaste kiss against Daisy’s forehead.

 

“Wait, it is?” Daisy demanded, her frown growing exponentially by the second as she peered across the small bathroom in their secret base at her messiah-come-boss-come-lover.

 

“Indeed,” HiveWard acknowledged, drawing Daisy into his arms which, thankfully, actually resembled arms at that moment, “your womb will grow ripe with the fruit of Inhuman evolution. This child will be the one to force them all to kneel, to tremble, and to...”

 

“Hold up, pal,” Skye interjected, shaking her head and withdrawing slightly from his arms, “what if it just wants to be a lawyer? Or a dentist?”

 

“Nobody wants to be a dentist, Daisy,” HiveWard chided, his expression patient but bored.

 

Slowly, the true meaning of his words silenced her, and though there was still a stubborn internal voice - that seemed to be growing louder by the second - that asked her what the hell she was doing, it was an odd sense of peace and purpose that descended over her.

 

"The fruit of Inhuman evolution," she repeated, almost beaming as she slid her hand down against her still flat abdomen.

 

Glancing in the mirror, her expression appeared hazy all of a sudden, and she shook her head as the details of the room became fuzzy, as if obscured by a thick fog. She was vaguely aware of his voice calling out to her, before darkness overwhelmed her, and all that was left was silence.

 

x-x-x

 

Upon opening her eyes, Daisy was seized by a deep-rooted lethargy, as if her very limbs protested the act of movement. That could, of course, have been almost exclusively due to the sizeable bump that housed her growing child.

 

"Ow! Jeez, kid. Knock it off, will you?!" she grimaced, rubbing at a particularly sore spot on her tightly stretched stomach. As if on cue, another sharp kick struck her hand, and she struggled to sit up, wondering if changing her position would silence the beast within.

 

"That better not be a tentacle... cos... I don't know how I feel about that," she spoke aloud, unable to shake off the strange sense of unease and almost confusion that was clouding her thoughts.

 

"Do you need something?" HiveWard enquired, apparently very much awake and seated in the bed beside her, idly flipping through a copy of the Financial Times. Of course, they had purchased a copy of ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’, like all keen and eager parents-to-be, but neither one of them had actually resolved to read it. If she was truthful, Daisy was fairly confident it was propping up the uneven air hockey table in the games room.

 

"I'm kind of hungry," she shrugged, watching with interest and just the faintest trace of affection as the age-old being tossed down his newspaper onto the night stand and peered down at her pregnant stomach with obvious excitement. His hand rested gently next to hers, and he smiled as he too felt the flutters and often restless movements of their child.

 

"What would you like?" he asked, appearing momentarily thoughtful, "I can have a minion run out to the convenience store. Although I'm not certain they'll have found a replacement clerk yet for your last midnight snack. Perhaps some blood bags? A dead cow? A live cow?... Ice cream?"

 

Daisy paused, wondering just when her life had become such a spectacle of the utterly weird and wonderful. If she was forced to contemplate it at length, she thought perhaps it would be somewhere between breaking out of her stony chrysalis with earthquake powers and her mentor having his arm chopped off with an axe, then replaced by a robotic glove.

 

“Ice cream could be good,” Daisy mused, rubbing her belly thoughtfully whilst Hive nodded, reaching for his cell phone as he prepared to summon a lackey.

 

After a pause, Daisy added, “With M and Ms. The peanut kind.”

 

“Anything you desire, my love,” HiveWard replied, his smile indulgent and his eyes sparkling as she beamed at him. The apples of her cheeks pinked, and Daisy slid her gaze shyly up to his handsome features.

 

“Maybe with a side of entrails?” she asked hopefully, toying with the edge of the bedsheet. “Those things are unbelievably moreish.”

 

"I'm certain that can be arranged," he nodded approvingly, and it was the strangely real affection behind his eyes that made Daisy lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. She leant her head against his shoulder, listening intently as he very calmly relayed a series of instructions to one of their henchmen.

 

"And make sure they're still warm," he added as an afterthought, and it was with a pained acceptance that Daisy realised her stomach grumbled in anticipation. Waiting until he had placed his phone back down onto the night stand, she peered up at him worriedly, as if old fears had chosen that moment to again resurface.

 

"So... the tentacle thing..." she began, drawing a circle over her stomach and pursing her lips in contemplation. "How likely is it we'll need to buy four sets of booties?"

 

Smiling reassuringly, he smoothed his hand over her rounded stomach, "I've told you, Daisy, our child will... probably...look perfectly normal to this world." He smiled proudly, "Our child... the first of many children we will create together... an empire... a legacy."

 

"Hey, hey, hey! Hold up there, Jim Bob. 'Many' children? I don't see you doing any of the heavy lifting, pal. That's all me and my girl parts. So... let's just power down on the whole empire thing, 'kay? It's a vagina, not a gumball machine!"

 

HiveWard actually chuckled, and reached out a hand to pat Skye’s head. Embarrassingly, she found herself leaning into the touch, as though eager for the affection.

 

“Our children will crush worlds and devour entire civilisations,” HiveWard replied, as though his words were the soothing end to the matter.

 

“That sounds... Swell?” Daisy attempted, letting loose a sigh as she reclined back against the pillows and allowed her eyelids to flicker closed. Her stomach grumbled again in warning, and her sweet little alien hybrid somersaulted - a reminder that she had yet to consume her somewhat macabre sundae, topped with the intestines of the next unfortunate minimum wage employee to man the 7/11 on the corner of the street.

 

“You’ll see. Everything will be just wonderful.”

 

  
x-x-x

 

It was soft, mewling cries that woke Daisy from her slumber, and she rolled over with a groan, somewhat shocked to find that when she moved, she was not encumbered by an immensely swollen abdomen. Daisy blinked away the vestiges of sleep and sat up quickly, her hand drifting to her stomach, which felt familiarly flat beneath her touch. Then, she remembered; their child had come into the world little over a month beforehand, and she had made HiveWard the happiest parasitic entity on the face of their planet and the next.

 

Daisy shot a glance to her side where, surprisingly, she noted that HiveWard appeared to be sleeping, his eyes lightly closed and his hands folded in the centre of his chest. She knew without digging him in the ribs that he had heard the infant squalling, but she couldn’t resist nonetheless. Typical male. When she poked him hard with the tip of her index finger, his eyes flew open and he stared at her with wide, brown orbs.

 

“Baby’s crying,” Daisy stated, matter of factly.

 

“Then you should nourish the infant,” HiveWard replied, his smile emerging as he peered at Daisy. She glowered, shaking her head.

 

“This again?” she demanded, rolling her eyes to demonstrate how thoroughly done she was with the topic of conversation.

 

“How is our child to grow into the leader of armies without the proper sustenance?” HiveWard demanded, his lips pursed and his arms suddenly folded.

 

“I thought we got past this whole ‘breast is best’ bullshit?” Daisy snapped, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed, preparing to retrieve their daughter herself and summon an unsuspecting minion she could bully into making up a bottle of formula.

 

Shuffling her way over towards the crib in the corner of the room, Daisy made soft, shushing sounds as she reached in and picked up the tiny infant, holding the baby up to eye level so she could plant a kiss on her slightly ashen cheek. Two black, beady eyes stared back at her in the darkness, and Daisy smiled adoringly at the tiny being as she cradled her in her arms, and the child appeared to calm. From beneath the pale pink blanket, a flurry of limbs began to stir, and Daisy rocked her gently as she made her way towards the door.

 

"Okay, let's see. Who'll it be, huh, Jiaying-Melinda-Jemma-Philippa-Sue? I bet Gerry'll do it... yeah, he's scared crapless of you. Okay, so we don't tell Daddy that Mommy said the word 'crapless'."

 

Suddenly rounding the corner out of her and HiveWard's quarters, she spied the minion in question leaning against the wall, a cigarette butt dangling from his lips.

 

"Yeah. Gerry. He'll go and make you a bottle of formula, cos otherwise, I'll tell him you'll eat him. Yes, I will..." she sing-songed, earning a soft coo from the alien child in her arms.

 

"Hey, Gerry! Bottle of House White for the short stuff," she yelled, watching as the closer she got, the faster Gerry seemed to both nod vigorously and also somehow manage to run backwards in the opposite direction.

 

"Yes, ma'am... Sure thing, ma'am," he shouted fearfully, saluting and nodding awkwardly as he sped away around the corner, tripping over his own feet. Shaking her head sadly, Daisy glanced down at the sleepy infant with the smile only an adoring mother could muster. There wasn’t a lackey on the entire godforsaken base that didn’t tremble when they looked at her precious baby girl, and it near broke Daisy’s heart, especially when the child affixed bright black eyes upon her that practically radiated love. Besides, there had only been the one incident with the doctor that had delivered her, and Daisy was almost certain that was not going to be a long-standing problem.

 

"You'd think he'd never seen a kid with tentacles before!" she scoffed, cuddling her daughter closer. "But I think you're the most beautiful girl in the whole world... and every other one you're gonna conquer, too. Yeah, you are... Yeah, you are..."

 

It was this inane, childish cooing that sent her thoughts suddenly drifting, and her body felt light and as if it were no longer tethered to the Earth.

 

x-x-x

 

With a startled cry and a jolt that made her entire body shake, Daisy finally opened her eyes.

 

She found herself suddenly awake, now no longer the mother of the scourge of human kind, but herself again - as far as she could tell, anyway. Leaping out of bed, she glanced around the familiar surroundings of her Playground quarters, pausing momentarily to glance in the mirror and make sure there was no sign of an alien fetus.

 

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" she whispered aloud, running her hands through her hair and sidling back over towards the bed, her breathing somewhat ragged.

 

The figure stirring in the bed she had vacated only seconds before breathed a hearty sigh, and Daisy crawled across the mattress, her head swimming from the series of bizarre and disconcerting dreams.

 

“Hey, Grant,” she hissed, poking the slumped shoulder of the man who slumbered stubbornly beneath her looming figure. “You won’t believe the crazy shit I just...”

 

“Daisy, it’s three freaking am,” a voice - a distinctly un-Wardlike voice- ground out in irritation. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

 

“Grant?” she repeated, a wave of nausea once again washing over her as her uncertainty mounted.

 

“Daisy... What the hell?” the man demanded gruffly, his tone moving beyond simple mild irritation and crossing right over the county line into unbridled fury. “Did you just call me ‘Grant’?”

 

Letting out an honest to goodness yelp, Daisy leapt back and blindly reached for the light on the night stand, ignoring the clatter of wood and glass that told her she'd knocked over at least a few items in her haste.

 

"Lincoln?" she demanded incredulously, eyes wide, "what the hell are you doing in my bed?"

 

Shaking his head as if not understanding her question, he sat up and pressed his fist to his mouth as a series of bone shaking coughs racked his body.

 

"What are you talking about? We've been seeing each other for a couple of months... And let's just back up there shall we?! Grant? As in Grant Ward?"

 

Daisy shook her head, as if trying to shake the confusion free from her mind. She began hurriedly pinching herself on the arm, a sight that only caused Lincoln's eyebrows to rise up further.

 

"What are you doing?" he demanded, eyes watering as he stifled a sneeze and reached towards the night stand beside him to retrieve a Kleenex from beside a plethora of cold and flu medicines, and vitamin bottles.

 

"There's no place like home, there's no place like home," she repeated, eyes slamming shut as she tried desperately to wake herself from what she was sure had to be yet another chapter of her freakishly unsettling dreams.

 

"Daisy, sit down!" Lincoln snapped, almost instantly causing Daisy’s eyes to flash open in surprise... and he would now note, abject anger.

 

"Don't talk to me like that!" she replied testily, "I can't believe this. I can't believe we're together... I'm sleeping with you? Oh, God."

 

She sighed dejectedly, pacing the floor as she ran her hands through her hair with alarming force.

 

"What's so wrong about that?" he demanded, watching her intently as she appeared to be rapidly losing her mind before him. "Is it so hard for you... 'crazy' you... to believe you and I could be together?"

 

As if he'd said the most ridiculous thing in the entire world - more ridiculous even than tentacle babies - she wheeled around and threw her hands up in despair.

 

"Yes!!" she shouted, "we're just so wrong for each other, Lincoln, and... Ughh, we have like... like zero chemistry."

 

She gestured between them for emphasis, suddenly sitting down heavily on the bed as she added, "I think I'm gonna throw up."

 

“Put your head between your knees and...” Lincoln began, abruptly falling silent as Daisy wheeled around on him.

 

“Shut up, what the hell would you know?” she demanded, forcibly swallowing down the bile rising rapidly in the back of her throat.

 

“Uhm, med. student?” Lincoln reminded her, before a series of sneezes escaped him and rendered him once more incapable of speech.

 

“I can count on one hand the number of classes you’ve attended,” Daisy countered, groaning as she flung a hand over her face.

 

Unable to come up with a suitable response given the truth behind her words, Lincoln merely sneered, "Well, maybe if I wasn't so caught up chasing after you!"

 

"Oh!" Daisy’s mouth opened as she appeared visibly appalled, "do NOT make me the excuse, Lincoln. You're here because you want to be, not because of me."

 

"Whatever," he spat, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he added coldly, "maybe I'd have something to be worried about if Ward was alive..."

 

Daisy swallowed hard, confused by the flurry of emotions the name seemed to conjure. Whilst one part of her was determined to hate Ward forever, another seemed especially upset to relive the knowledge of the events that had transpired on Maveth. It was a confusing feeling, but one that suddenly felt all consuming. Standing up quickly from the bed, she headed towards the door, desperate to be able to clear her head and rearrange her muddled thoughts.

 

"Daisy?" Lincoln shouted, attempting to follow after her, "wait up! You know my immune system's low right now... I...I..."

 

He collapsed into a coughing fit, deciding in that moment to let Daisy go in favour of a handful of Echinacea pills and sleep. Since flooding his body with the Inhuman cure almost 8 weeks before, and compromising his immune system in the process, Lincoln had racked up an impressive list of ailments, including two head colds, tonsillitis, chicken pox and mono. His patience was fast wearing thin with being a patient, and Simmons had threatened to condemn him to life in a bubble for the foreseeable future if he so much as sniffled in her direction again.

 

Pushing out into the hallway and ignoring the snuffled cries of her apparent boyfriend, Daisy broke into a run. She had made it barely two metres ahead of her own nose when she collided with another firm body, and a cold, metallic arm fastened around her waist to steady her.

 

“Daisy, where’s the fire?” Coulson inquired, frowning as he took in the dishevelled state of his pyjama clad agent.

 

"Why is everyone calling me that?" she demanded, wrestling free of his grip and glaring at him sullenly.

 

Coulson appeared confused, "Because... it's your name, and you told us to?"

 

Daisy sighed heavily, "I was just trying to fit in, I was being who you wanted me to be. I hate the name. I hate my hair..." Her bottom lip trembled threateningly, and he searched the corridor desperately for any signs of another human being that could help him.

 

Tangling her fingers in the end of her bobbed hair, Daisy lamented tearfully, "I can't even put it into cute styles any more... Remember those awesome side-braids?"

 

"Daisy... Are you okay? Did something happen?" Coulson asked, his patience appearing to now wear thin.

 

Nodding affirmatively, she replied, "Only like... God, how long has it been? Two years? Two years of total bullshit. You, and your crazy robot arm, and... you're just so mean now, and everyone just lets you get away with it because you're ‘Phil Coulson’ and there was like a Twitter campaign or something. But you know what, D.C.? That doesn't give you a pass to be a douchebag. And May, she's like so... so... meh! And FitzSimmons, I mean, where did all of our personalities go? When did we all become such giant, bland, two-dimensional assholes?!"

 

Coulson’s mouth fell open, and he faltered a moment before declaring, “I don’t feel qualified to answer that...”

 

Daisy only scoffed, shaking her head as she stared back at her boss.

 

“Daisy...” Coulson began, frowning at the glare he received before he quickly amended, “Skye? Do you maybe need to talk to somebody? Andrew, or...”

 

“Oh don’t even get me started on that whole thing!” Daisy yelped, jabbing a finger in Coulson’s chest and vigorously shaking her head, “first off, May has a secret husband slash eternal love squirrelled away somewhere for two whole freaking years, who just happens to conveniently be a psychiatrist exactly when everybody around here is going loco, and then just as they’re getting back on track, he gets turned into a Rastafarian Smurf on steroids by some space dust?”

 

Drawing in a deep breath, her finger wagged at him as if she were about to unleash a whole two years of irritation.

 

"And you and Rosalyn? Two weeks, D.C. You knew her two weeks! You murdered Ward, totally in cold blood. But that's okay, cos it's you! You give everyone second chances except him. I can't even talk about the whole Agent 33 mess, because... Where do I start with that?! Oh, oh..." she slapped her hand against her forehead for emphasis, "and Fitz? Where did his brain damage go? A month or two of stammering, and now he's miraculously cured? What gives? And if FitzSimmons wanna be together, let them be together!! Just stop it with the killer rocks and the Star Wars land, and the... the dead, parasite infested astronauts. I mean, _fuck me_!!"

 

Coulson's eyebrow quirked at her expletive, and he shook his head, about to speak when Daisy once more interrupted him.

 

"Oh, and Hunter and Bobbi? Totally skeezy, nasty people! I'm done! I'm done with all of this. I might as well go and find Ward... Hive... WardHive? Whatever... and just have lots of tentacle babies! Cos this whole thing blows! Oh, and I wasn't brainwashed, D.C... I just don't like you guys any more."

 

A beat passed, before finally Coulson jammed his hand in his pocket and inquired, "Tentacle babies?"

 

“Yes, because trying to shove an alien squid thing into a diaper sounds way more fun than spending a single second longer on this damn base with the people who literally get away with murder because their logo looks slightly more legit than an octopus,” Daisy snarled, moving to push past Coulson entirely.

 

“Skye, what exactly is this about?” Coulson demanded, reaching out a restraining arm to hold Daisy firmly in place.

 

She brushed his fingers off easily, rolling her eyes as she added, “Oh, and don’t even think about trying to stop me, or else I’ll put your on your ass courtesy of those Slayer powers I seemed to develop in the four freaking months after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. I’m a ninja, Coulson. A ninja.”

 

"Well... Well, May trained you. She's the best..." he said defensively.

 

"Yeah, May trained me, but unless she shot me up with that Captain American serum in my coffee every damn morning, what gives?! Nobody learns to be Melinda May in four months, D.C. Nobody! And because I cut my hair and use this stupid new name, which, by the way, is just ridiculous... I use the name the mom who tried to murder me picked? Okay, sure. Uh-huh... I'm this new, boring, faceless S.H.I.E.L.D. Specialist. We used to be fun, we had real feelings, real emotions, we were likeable!! We played Scrabble, for God’s sakes. And now it's just one super dramatic event to react to every week. I'm tired, D.C. I don't want to do this any more..."

 

"Daisy, what are you saying?" he demanded, his fingers grasping her arm tighter, although strangely, the sensation began to drift from her skin and a strange numbness began to overcome her.

 

"I want to go home," she whispered, "I want to be the girl in the van again. I want to hack stuff for fun and say ‘bang’ when I pull the trigger and... And eat carbs! I want to be me."

 

“You are home...” Coulson muttered, although strangely the voice emanating from his mouth didn’t seem to belong to him any longer; it was deeper, huskier somehow, and yet laced with a softness that was so comforting and familiar to Skye, that indeed she immediately felt as though she was home.

 

Darkness surrounded her, and Skye started as she realised that her eyelids had slid closed at some point, and that her back was pressed against a soft surface. She rallied against unconsciousness, her head thrashing from one direction to another, and succeeding in igniting such a burning pain in her abdomen that Skye was almost immediately dragged back under by unconsciousness.

 

“Home...” she heard herself mumble, although her voice sounded slurred and somewhat muffled to her own ears. There was the faintest feeling of pressure on her hand, and then Skye attempted to force open her own eyes, determined to greet and then dispatch whatever fresh nightmare lay ahead for her.

 

It took a few moments to find the strength to open her eyes, but when she did, she instantly squinted against the brightness of the lighting in the room. For once, the scene was unfamiliar, and that in itself was comforting. The seconds of confusion suddenly wound into unease, and as she turned her head to find a pair of familiar eyes staring down at her, she felt her heart leap in her chest.

 

"Hive?" she tried timidly, glancing down at her abdomen and noting the absence of any noticeable baby bump with relief. When he only frowned and looked at her with an equal degree of confusion, she tried, "Is... Is the baby okay? I mean, I know she has tentacles and all, but she's kind of cute I guess, and..."

 

"Skye... Are you okay?" Ward looked at her with wide eyes, his lips poised to break out into a smirk as he listened to her tirade.

 

"I don't know," she replied honestly, her voice laden with the promise of tears, "is this like some mind-control thing again?"

 

"Skye, do you remember what happened?" he asked, glancing up as Simmons appeared in the doorway of the med. bay, and the two of them peered down expectantly at her.

 

"Well," Skye began, clasping the thin white sheet that covered her body just underneath her chest. "From the beginning? Uh... You and D.C. kidnapped me from my van, and then I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., and... and then you were Hydra, and... I got powers, and Tripp turned to stone, and you headed up Hydra, which totally made no sense, by the way... And you started dating 33, I guess it was dating, it was totally whacked out and weird, but... whatever, your call, dude... and then it's kind of fuzzy, but I guess I found my parents, my Mom went crazy and tried to kill me, my Dad got TAHITI'd and somehow became a veterinarian, Coulson got his arm chopped off, 33 died because she looked like May, you went nuts, Coulson killed you on this dessert looking planet that the rock sucked Jemma in to, and then you came back as this big, parasite, Inhuman thing, and then I joined you so we could start our own master race..."

 

Jemma and Ward - who had been joined by a very concerned looking Fitz and Coulson - exchanged incredulous glances, the latter just about poised to speak when Skye finished off accusingly.

 

"OH! And then you knocked me up with your tentacle..." she paused, searching for the words.

 

" _Please don't leave that there, please don't leave that there_ ," Fitz chanted under his breath, biting his lip to stop himself bursting out into inappropriate laughter.

 

"...Tentacle baby, squid thing!" she finished, turning and rewarding him with a sour expression, "but I might have made that part up? It's... a little fuzzy right now."

 

Coulson appeared to be still reeling from her tangent, and Fitz was hiding his hand behind his face, leaving Simmons to finally shatter the uncomfortable silence.

 

"Skye... There's no baby, I can assure you. I ran a pregnancy test along with your other bloods before the surgery. It's routine when a young woman your age presents with abdominal pain."

 

Sitting up and suddenly pointing towards Coulson, Skye narrowed her eyes and leant forwards, "Hey, where's your robot arm? Did you grow a new one?"

 

"My... My what?" Coulson asked, sidling closer to Jemma as he asked under his breath, " _Is she alright_?"

 

"Yes, sir. It's the effects of the anaesthetic and possibly the pain medication. It'll wear off in a few hours," Jemma explained, watching as Ward gently tried to coax Skye back against her pillows.

 

With a patient smile, he carefully gathered her hand in his, mindful of the cannula poking out of her skin. "You had emergency surgery for an appendicitis, Skye. You don't remember that?"

 

Shaking her head, Skye glared at him suspiciously, before reaching out and poking his cheek, much to Fitz’s obvious and loud amusement. Ward ignored the snort of laughter and instead shot a questioning glance at Skye.

 

“Your face... It was all... Davy Jones...” Skye explained, frowning.

 

“Like, The Monkees?” Coulson demanded, confusion swallowing his features and producing an expression that could only be described as pained.

 

“No, Pirates of the Caribbean,” Skye absently corrected, still pulling and prodding at Grant’s cheek as though she expected some sort of resultant change.

 

"I'm just me, Skye. I promise," he held her gaze, lifting her hand slowly towards his lips and pressing a kiss against her palm. "No Hydra, no... parasitic aliens, no... tentacle babies. It's just me."

 

"We're friends again?" she arched an eyebrow, frowning at the chortles of laughter from the peanut gallery behind them.

 

"I guess you could say that," he nodded, fishing in his pocket and producing two small objects, which he held out towards her for inspection. "These belong to you. I was holding onto them for you, no jewellery in the OR."

 

Skye's brow furrowed as she stared down at the wedding band and glittering engagement ring that sat in his open palm.

 

"They're mine?" she asked uncertainly, glancing at her left hand before looking back up at him for confirmation. "We're..."

 

"Hitched? Shacked up? Yep," Fitz nodded enthusiastically, pointing towards himself with both thumbs as he added, "world's best 'best man', right here. I did a bang up job of it, even if I do say so myself."

 

"No," Skye shook her head, pushing his hand away and laying back in an agitated manner against her pillows.

 

"I can't be married to you... Besides..." Lowering her voice until it was a comedic attempt at a whisper, she added, " _I think I'm sleeping with Lincoln_!"

 

She grimaced as her brain whirled with a mix of newly acquired information and a thousand possibilities of the truth that it appeared her drug addled mind had conjured.

 

"No, no she's _not_ sleeping with Lincoln," a male voice chimed in, and the friends glanced up as the blonde Inhuman in question strode in with her medical chart in his hands. "She is, however, feeling the effects of a few really awesome drugs, so... let's leave her to sleep it off, hey guys?"

 

"Are you kidding, mate? This is YouTube gold!" Fitz shook his head, "besides, she's... confused. I don't think it's a good idea to leave her alone right now."

 

“Lincoln... You’re a doctor...” Skye stated, staring wide eyed at the man decked out in scrubs, who was smiling at her patiently.

 

“That’s when happens when you go to med. school, Skye,” Lincoln chuckled, shaking his head as he annotated her chart, before sliding it back onto the holder at the foot of her bed.

 

“You went to class?” Skye inquired, a somewhat sleepy and highly confused smile beginning to overtake her features rapidly. Frowning, she turned to Ward as she added, “I feel kind of pukey. Are we sure about the calamari spawn?”

 

Ward laughed, stroking her hair from her forehead as he nodded in affirmation, "I'm sure, baby."

 

He retrieved a cardboard vomit bowl from the table beside her, and placed it next to her on the bed, and she blushed in embarrassment.

 

"No, you are not watching me puke! That is... not okay."

 

"Here, I can give you something to help with the nausea," Lincoln offered, rifling through one of the drawers that lined the med. bay, before he produced a vial and a plastic syringe. Drawing the clear fluid up, he reached for her hand and slowly injected the liquid into the cannula port. "You should start to feel better soon. If you need anything, just push the call bell, or have Ward come and find me."

 

"Thanks," she said quietly, watching him head towards the door with a degree of scepticism.

 

Skye found the appeal of the impossibly soft pillows beneath her head to be too much to resist, and combined with Ward's soothing touch and the drugs coursing through her veins, she was finding it very hard to keep her eyes open.

 

"So, the Secret Warriors... Joey, YoYo... that.. that stupid Australian guy... Hellfire?"

 

Ward paused and stared up patiently at their assembled colleagues who all, barring Fitz, took the subtle hint and prepared to leave.

 

"Don't you dare!" Simmons chastised Fitz, grabbing his phone from his hands as he appeared poised to press the record button.

 

"You're no fun!" Fitz scoffed, sighing as he folded his arms in a petulant display.

 

"Oh my God, I almost forgot..." Skye stated, eyes now cracked wide open, "you two had sex!"

 

She pointed at the scientists as if taking part in a high school version of The Crucible, and almost at once they both offered suitably stunned and affronted responses.

 

"It's a shame that wasn't recording," Coulson added wryly, hiding a smirk somewhat unsuccessfully behind a very much flesh and blood hand.

 

“It is what boyfriend and girlfriend... That is to say, partners, are known to...” Jemma stammered, completely flustered and cheeks suddenly reddening. Quickly, she reached for the drip hanging above Skye’s bed and needlessly fiddled with the tubing.

 

“Maybe you should get some sleep, baby,” Ward suggested, brushing a gentle kiss against Skye’s cheek, “you’ll feel better after you rest.”

 

“No, I can’t, I can’t sleep,” Skye protested, yawning loudly even as she attempted to struggle up from her pillows, although Ward firmly and gently held her back, half afraid that she would manage to rupture her hours old stitches.

 

“I need to know!” Skye continued, shaking her head frantically, her fingers closing around Ward’s hand. He shot a glance at the doorway, relieved to see that their makeshift family had all shuffled out into the hallway, preparing to return to their various daily duties.

 

“What do you need to know?” Ward soothed, his thumb brushing almost hypnotically over her forehead and encouraging her eyelids to close.

 

“How much of it is true?” Skye demanded, although in a tone that signified she was fading fast, the pull of drug induced sleep just too strong to ignore. She shifted in the bed slightly, discomfort tugging her lips downwards into a frown and her free hand drifting to the site of her surgical wounds.

 

Frowning, Ward tugged her hand away and gently chastised, “Don’t do that.”

 

"The Garrett thing is true," he said quietly, regrettably, adding, "but... Coulson... all of you, gave me a second chance. I proved myself to S.H.I.E.L.D. and to you, Skye."

 

She nodded, as if the details of her life were now filtering through her dreams and confusion. "What else?"

 

"You have powers, that's real... But Tripp? He's fine. He didn't go down into the city with you. I did. I'd show you," he smiled suddenly, gesturing to the cylinders on the wall, "but there's a lot of oxygen in this room."

 

Skye chuckled, shaking her head.

 

" _Hellfire_... That's you. I think I remember that now... And... Other stuff," her cheeks blushed red, and she bit her bottom lip almost shyly as she nodded towards the rings on the night stand beside her bed. "Can I have my rings back?"

 

Smiling, Ward reached for the wedding and engagement rings that nestled side by side on the night stand, a gleaming reminder of just how ludicrous every last detail of Skye’s dreams had been. Without a word, and with just a loving look instead, Grant slid both rings back onto the finger of Skye’s left hand, where they belonged.

 

“You scared me for a while there,” Ward stated, his expression softening as he took in Skye’s tired and somewhat bedraggled appearance. “I kind of got used to you getting shot and stabbed, but this real life stuff? That’s terrifying. Don’t do that to me again.”

 

Lifting her hospital issue nightgown, Skye peered down at her abdomen and grimaced at the sight of the three small dressings spread over her stomach.

 

"Am I going to have scars?" she whined, her tone petulant.

 

"They did laparoscopic surgery, you've got three little incisions, you'll be fine," he reassured her, lifting their joined hands to his lips and kissing her skin repeatedly.

 

"Might be little to you, buddy, but I feel like I got into a fight with May," she winced, sitting up a little higher and bringing their hands to rest against her chest. "Did they say when I can get out of here?"

 

"Well, Simmons says if you 'behave yourself'," he chuckled as Skye rolled her eyes, "you can go home tomorrow. But no work for two weeks, and no... Uh... you know, for a week."

 

He faltered slightly, the tips of his ears growing a decidedly violent shade of pink.

 

"Sex?" she guessed, eyebrow arched in amusement. "You sure we're married, Grant?"

 

Ward chuckled, leaning closer as she craned her neck to kiss him. She sighed happily against his lips, her hand caressing his jaw as she seemed reluctant to break their clinch.

 

"Hey, you and I can talk about whatever you want..." his gaze briefly scanned her face as he added huskily, "there's not an _inch_ of you I don't know... intimately. But do you wanna have 'that' talk with Jemma?"

 

He almost shuddered as he recalled having to endure the 'sex' talk from their similarly blushing and stumbling colleague. He’d much rather have jumped out of an aeroplane again, with or without a parachute.

 

"Oh, hell no," Skye giggled, beaming as Ward kissed her forehead and waited until she'd lay back against her pillows to begin stroking her hair once again. "I'm so tired."

 

"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise," he vowed, happy to continue his vigil until she was safely back in their quarters in their own bed, beside him.

 

Sighing heavily, Skye leant into his touch, her eyes finding his as she confessed, "I'm afraid. I'm scared to go to sleep in case this is all a dream. That other crazy stuff? I... I know it sounds stupid, but it felt so real, all of it. What if this is just a dream, too? And when I wake up, I'm back there, and... you're gone."

 

"Skye... This is real. This life? It'll all be here waiting for you when you wake up. I won't move from this spot, baby. I promise you, I'll be right here," Ward assured her, pulling his chair closer as if to prove his point. A few moments of silence passed, before Skye lifted her gaze from the blankets on the bed, and she turned her head to face him.

 

"I missed you... in my dreams, I mean. I know that sounds crazy, but I did. I guess I was looking for home, and that's you, Ward." Smiling self-consciously, she added with a wry chuckle, "God, I sound like such a sap. Can we please blame the drugs for this?!"

 

Ward grinned, his eyes twinkling as he agreed, “It’s definitely the drugs. We’ll never speak of this again.”

 

Skye returned his smile as she settled herself back against her pillows and added, “This really is the perfect reality.”

 

Chuckling, Ward shook his head as he thought back over Skye’s delirious ramblings upon waking; a parasitic alien octopus, replacement robotic arms, an actual person named YoYo, not to mention sleeping with Lincoln, who had about as little chemistry with Skye as he did with his regular breakfast cereal.

 

“Where did you get all those crazy ideas from?” Grant inquired, beginning to tuck the covers around Skye’s body. She shot him a sheepish smile, her cheeks colouring.

 

“I may have been reading the latest spoilers for Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E.,” she replied, wincing as Ward’s eyebrows sky rocketed towards his brow.

 

“I thought we gave up on that show after it jumped the shark?” Ward pressed, unable to hide a smirk as he regarded Skye, who was practically squirming in her hospital bed.

 

“It’s totally terrible, like a train wreck, but I was kind of still holding out hope for StarGar, so I may have been reading episode reviews and possibly YouTubing just a little bit,” she answered, her embarrassment evident, although Grant was chivalrous enough to attempt to keep his outward display of amusement to a minimum.

 

“Are those really their story lines?” he demanded, his expression growing incredulous.

 

"Pretty much," she nodded, shaking her head in confusion as she added, "although I think the whole squid baby thing was all me. You know, I kind of see you and me in Starr and Garth Warner, and... We just got married, and... it got me thinking about the future, and we talked about having a baby in a few years, and..."

 

She trailed off, hoping her rambling explanation was enough to suffice.

 

"I don't think we talked about squid babies. I have pretty strong feelings about that," he countered, laughing at the mortified expression on her face. "But if what we talked about spooked you that much, Skye, then..."

 

"No! It didn't, you know I want all those things," she replied hastily, her palm now cupping his jaw as he pressed a tender kiss against her lips and gazed down at her in utter adoration, "Three holes in my belly or not, you have no idea how happy I am to wake up here with this life, Grant. I guess I was just projecting, and they were running all these stupid, crazy story lines that make no sense, and I just... You know what? Never mind. I am cutting myself off. No more Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. for me! I won’t so much as look at a publicity photo."

 

“If that’s really the way the show’s gone, I give it another season tops before it’s no more Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. for anyone,” Ward replied derisively, still chuckling as Skye sagely nodded before closing her eyes once more.

 

“Uh huh,” Skye agreed, her tone signifying that sleep was fast pulling her under, as her entire body seemed to relax into the mattress.

 

“There’s only so much contradictory and nonsensical crap that an audience can take,” Ward mused aloud, relaxing back against his seat as he prepared to maintain his position by Skye’s side, both figuratively and literally.

 

On the precipice of sleep, thoroughly exhausted not only from her surgery but from her nightmares, Skye Ward could only muster enough energy for the tiniest of smiles as she replied, “They’re only human.”

 

With that, she drifted off into a mercilessly dreamless slumber, anticipating waking again into a world that once more made perfect sense. 

* * *


End file.
